daemonized | RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

[Saving them? He would hope so, and maybe it shouldn't be so surprising to him. If he were honest to himself, would he not attempt to do the same thing now? If daemons were such things that existed, if people felt that kind of pain. At the price of... what? His own well-being?

Of something crystallizing within him. That darkness.]

...I tried, at least.

[A hand coming up to rub at the stubble on his chin, a very fleeting sort of anxious tell. He drops it, letting his touch settle on her own hand. He forces flippancy into his tone.]

At least it's good to know of its purpose, hm? [His healing, he means. But let's turn this thing around, shall we? He can mull over his uncertainties when he's not in the company of someone else; especially someone he doesn't wish to worry. In the past, he's had the advantage of being able to think before telling anyone else. It's different this time.] But I've gone and turned this into something about myself. Please... I'm far more interested in your recollections, Grell. How very rude of me to interrupt.

Edited (i stg........yells about typos ) 2017-06-21 20:34 (UTC)

[there's a pause where she simply looks at him for half a second. being flippant is too obvious, and she nearly says something before deciding that no, she'll simply look for a moment to flip it back around. if not now, then later.]

One doesn't choose when remembrance makes its entrance.

[and she doesn't mind if it turns into talking about him.]

But, if you still consider my recollections important...there are two other things I can take from the strange conversation I dreamt of. One being that for my disguise, I undertook the role of a servant. It supports the idea of me truly trying to hide, but it still raises more questions.

[Don't give him that look, Grell. He's totally not purposefully flipping the conversation around, unaware that she plans on doing the same to him. This is good, this is Fine.]

A servant for whom?

[That seems to be the next natural line of questioning. Something about Ardyn seems to relax a little since the subject has returned to her own memories instead, sparking curiosity to abate the apprehension.]

Do you remember any other smaller details? How everyone was dressed, for example? You mentioned to me, once, about viewing... dates that were not exactly of the modern era.

[He wonders if the rest of her memories seem to align with this idea.]

A servant for the Burnett family, if what I said was true. Another name I've never heard of. And as for dressed...it was all clothing I'd put in an earlier era. Maybe those dates are connected, somehow.

[she hadn't been considering that, too wrapped up in the change of her hair, but...]

It's something I might have to look into. Clothing wasn't an angle I considered.

Every little detail is another hint towards unraveling the mystery. Even as something as unremarkable as clothing.

[He seems vaguely amused again, in all sincerity.]

Do you by chance remember what you wore? Not while in disguise, I mean.

...Yes, although it didn't seem remarkable at the time. If I consider it though, parts of it begin to stand out. A red coat, black gloves...a few more mysterious accessories.

Why do you ask? Do you remember what you were wearing in your memories?

[A red coat. He muses that that predilection for red still existed, which Ardyn finds novel, and yet he doesn't get a chance to remark on it. He's instead trying to decide just how to respond to her question.

Because the obvious answer was yes, he did. It's the follow-up to that which would prove... interesting.]

I do. And you'll be glad to know that the hat still existed, even then. And quite a bit more.

And more. Do tell me what this "more" contains.

[oh no. how bad is this?]

[rip me who has to write this tag]

Ah... [A hand to rub at the back of his neck, and he just motions at her to turn around again so he can continue to brush her hair, which he'll idly begin to do if she does.]

Where does one even start? I had a scarf, of course. An orange one. And a white sort of undershirt with a tall, frilled collar. The sleeves were also frilled at the cuffs. Then there was a vest of some kind -- green hues and a bit or red, I think. Complete with a long black coat.

[He's not even done.]

What else. I wore something that was like a shawl, with a hood. It had a beautiful sort of floral motif on it, and it's a shame I can't find something similar here in Recolle.

[He smiles. He's still not done. But-] Shall I continue?

...Do continue, for in telling me, you'll keep the details fresh in your mind.

[she's keeping her expression carefully blank, not judging just yet.]

[Well, he'll keep going then!]

Very well. The shirt I mentioned before, it was long and crept out from under the vest. The pants were olive and pinstripe, and the shoes were-- Well, I believe they were boots. I can't be certain.

[Okay I will link the picture for the sake of the shoes because who the hell knows what those are? He describes them in detail, plus anything else I missed.]

Oh, and I had a wing. [He stops brushing, briefly, as if he's just remembered. He sounds amused.] Not a real wing, mind you. But something the shape of it, long and black and made to resemble having feathers. It attached at the left shoulder, like a pauldron of some sort.

It all sounds very...elaborate. Ornate, even, with all these details involved. Back then you were even more of a careful dresser, wing and all.

[this is her trying to be nice about the whole thing. this is trying to be careful about not saying what she really feels about it all.]

[Very "elaborate" she says. His smile turns a little knowing, and hardly offended.]

You don't have to mince words, Grell. You think it's all very hideous, don't you?

If you appeared before my eyes wearing that, I would strip you out of it completely so that we could start again from the absolute foundation in hopes of finding a better outfit, which is the simplest task in the world given how much better anything else would be.

[there's the truth.]

[wow rude!! (Again, he's hardly offended. More entertained by her reaction, than anything.)

There are a few avenues in which he can respond. He can pretend to be offended, be more sincere in the show of his amusement, or... Or.]

My, that just sounds like you're looking for reasons to remove my clothes.

[for a second, she almost protests, and then, crossing her arms.]

I did leave myself defenseless for that one, didn't I.

[sometimes you have to give props where props are due.]

[He actually laughs, low and amused.]

You did.

[He gives her something of a mischievous look now. ]

Do you know what this means, though?

No. What does it mean?

[how much is she going to regret asking this.]

It means you've no reason to complain about the hat from now on. Why? Because it could always be worse.

You wouldn't want me to take inspiration from my past self, would you?

Ugliness in the past doesn't prevent me from commenting on ugliness in the present day. Besides, if you start taking so-called inspiration from the mess you described, I'm afraid I most certainly will have to intervene.

[one of these days, she'll be able to dress him entirely again, and it will be a benefit to the world.]

Intervene? That sounds ominous.

[He's grinning.]

Still, I'll do it. Each time the hat is called ugly, the inclination to find a facsimile of my past clothing will rise. You'll find me wearing a wing before you know it.

Then I'll need to find many more words than simply ugly. For it is the letter of the word, and not the spirit, that I'm bound to if I'm determined to keep you away from wings and too elaborate pants.

You think the pants were too elaborate? I own a similar pair already, you know.

[Tragic fashion choices. They're black, though, and not olive.]

Of course you do. And the next time I see you you'll no doubt be wearing them.

[black, at least, is bearable. black hides many a fashion sin.]

You know me too well. Because yes, I will.

Just for you, Grell.

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why is she asking

you're not prepared for this, grell

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